


Constellation Connection

by Tearose_romantic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Constellations, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Fictional Constellations, Long-Distance Relationship, Pining, Post-Canon, Putting waaaaaaay too much of myself in the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tearose_romantic/pseuds/Tearose_romantic
Summary: Claude von Reigan found his gaze wandering to the stars most nights.  Before, the night sky dwarfed his massive dreams, giving them an air of possibility.  Now, they shrank the world, so that the distance between him and his dearest companion did not seem so far.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 66





	Constellation Connection

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to all those separated from loved ones by COVID-19.

A warm breeze rustled the gossamer curtains of the crown prince of Almyra’s chambers, just enough motion to draw his eye away from the paperwork that had absorbed his attention. His previous concentration broken, the young leader stretched upwards, realizing just how stiff his neck felt. How many hours had he been at his desk, answering correspondences, brokering favors, paving the way for his ascent? Judging by the stub that remained of his candle, far longer than he originally planned. 

Leaning back from the richly-carved cedar desk, Claude von Riegan--as he had once been known--turned to look out the window where the curtains danced in the evening breeze. Claude was grateful for it. He knew the air would be far too warm tonight without some movement to stir it. Below, he could see the torches that lined the streets of his city, glittering like gemstones in the earth. 

His family, his people, his city, his nation, it was supposed to be a joyful reunion, wasn’t it? A homecoming to the halls he knew blindfolded, the kitchens he terrorized in his youth, and the dusty streets he’d roamed through on many a warm night like this. And certainly, his father’s embraces had been warm and crushing like he knew they would be, and his mother’s kisses were intermixed with lighthearted tweaks to his beard and ears, but there was an underlying bitterness that lingered under his tongue and poisoned his joy at returning to Almyra: she wasn’t here with him. 

Claude sighed, and stepped away from the desk to get some air. From his balcony atop the palace, he could see the expanse of his city until it nearly reached the mountain crags in the distance. He knew why he must leave Byleth behind. He knew why he needed to consolidate his power here. He knew they would not be apart forever, and yet the dull ache in his spirit would not relent. If anything, during quiet moments like this when his mind could wander, it grew all the more painful. 

Claude grimaced as he toyed with the delicate, silver ring on his little finger. Byleth’s ring for him. It was too small, even for his slender fingers, but he still wore it every single day without fail. Under his riding gloves, none of his attendants would know the difference. No one would know he had left his heart behind in the foreign country he’d disappeared into for over half a decade. Just the way he liked it: his secrets kept under lock and key, unable to be exploited. 

Byleth, while certainly strong enough to hold her own in any confrontation, would be tossed about like a leaf on the wind with all the political games surrounding Claude’s claim to the throne. He couldn’t do that to her. It would be like attaching a millstone to a wyvern’s neck. Byleth was an able leader, but she was a different sort than those that thrived in the courts. Byleth led with a determined sort of honesty and bluntness that made her soldiers love her. She led with no subtlety and no favoritism. Princes and nobility, yeomen and conscripts, all were the same to her. Claude loved that about her. 

However, politics here were murky, full of veiled truths and half-lies. A dance one had to know or risk death. When to rattle a sabre and when to invite to tea, he’d learned the rules at such a young age he hardly thought of it. To him, this dance was as natural as breathing. The precarious balance of honeying one’s threats just so they would be sweet enough to untrained ears, but poison to just the intended audience. The slow wheedling of favors and trust that harmonized so well with his natural voice, he almost forgot the sound of its natural timbre. And of course, the gentle too-and-fro of clasping the hands of your friends, but keeping the other on a dagger’s hilt. Claude sighed quietly as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He would achieve his dream, and he would not allow her to be caught up in the political climate that had taught him to trust no one. She had done her part, the rest was up to him. 

All this Claude _knew_. He’d repeated it to himself _ad infinitum_ in the months since his professor had reemerged from thin air and back into his heart. Yet his heart ignored blatant logic. It ached like a muscle reawakened from disuse, almost so bad it turned his stomach. Or maybe that was hunger? How long had it been since he last ate…? It was the figs, right? No, that was breakfast. Surely he’d had something more recently… Yep, this was definitely hunger. Claude deliberately tried not to remember how often Byleth would leave a bag of seeds or a small roll on his desk at Garreg Mach, knowing his predilection for growing too absorbed in concocting a new poison. He tried not to think about how many times he’d awoken with a blanket over his shoulders after falling asleep in the library, pouring over texts in his search for answers. _‘This would be so much easier with her here…’ _his heart whispered selfishly.__

__Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, Claude tried desperately to get a hold of himself. He was a ruler, not a love-lorn sap. He couldn’t afford this distraction, not now. There was too much to do, too much to say. His dream had never been closer, and here he was stumbling at the finish line at the prospect of a few months away from his greatest confidant and most trusted advisor. That’s what everyone thought the ruler of the united nation of Fódlan was to him. He’d permitted that much to slip, but nothing further._ _

__With a sigh, Claude decided to make his way down to the kitchens. Could he have a servant grab a tray for him? Of course. But he needed to move, to get his mind out of this spiral of longing. ‘Move the body, move the mind’, as Baba always said. With a determined stride, the prince made his way down the back staircase, the small rustle of his robes the only sound he made. He loved this route the best. The staircase went directly to the servant’s quarters, and from there it was only a short jaunt to the kitchens. Already he could smell the cinnamon and cardamom from the evening meal he’d missed. His stomach growled in anticipation._ _

__The servants knew him well, for he’d spent many a day terrorizing the senior staff as a child. Mostly in an effort to outrun his half-siblings and cousins, who somehow never caught on to his favorite tactic: getting lost in a crowd. Nowadays, he didn’t upend their beds and get underfoot. He simply offered apologetic winks and would occasionally drop a coin for a bit of privacy away from the constant performances with other contenders for the crown. At this point, they all knew, and it seemed to have endeared them all the more to him. Calculated move, or advantageous sentimentality? Claude decided later it was probably a mix of the two. He’d learned from his time at Garreg Mach: letting your heart guide decisions did not always lead to inferior outcomes. In fact, it could lead to far deeper, more powerful allies._ _

__Naturally, the kitchen staff berated him for missing the meal entirely, but it was good-natured. They were all like aunties and uncles to him. Their hands had boxed his ears and snuck him candies in equal measure. They couldn’t hate him even as he vexed them, and every party involved knew it. After swiping a few flat loaves of bread and a small flank of spiced meat and stewed lentils, Claude sat himself down in a corner of the hearth and ate unceremoniously. The levity of the kitchens had been good for him; it gave him a brief distraction._ _

__As he tucked into his meal, his mind traced back to his betrothed. _‘What would she think of the food here?’_ He imagined her tearing into plate after plate back in the dining hall, never refined but always enthusiastic. Her appetite was something he found strangely attractive, especially in those early days when--in all other things--she had seemed like a doll with no light behind her eyes. It was his first hint that there dwelt something beneath the calm surface of her glassy eyes. _ _

_‘I miss her. I miss her so damn much.’ _He couldn’t outrun thoughts of her, not when everything around him served as a reminder of her absence. His previous levity lapsed into a subdued melancholy at the thought. After a pensive session sitting by the hearth as he ate, Claude found the bustle and hum of the kitchens suddenly suffocating. As quiet as a shadow, the heir apparent slipped out the back scullery door and out into the cooling night air._ _

____

____

__All his life, the night sky had been his deity, and while not the most religious man, Claude needed something to pray to right now. The stars--so gentle, yet so distant--swallowed his many doubts and fears over the years. Beneath them, even a man poised to rule the whole continent shrank to a simple, ordinary lover who longed for a woman whose eyes and hair shone like starlight._ _

__The silvery shimmer of The Goddess’ Shawl--or the Great River, as Almyra called it--stretched across the sky tonight. Claude’s eyes traced fondly over the familiar streak. He remembered those first lonely months in Deirdru when he traced that stream across the sky, when his heart ached for home. He remembered being so glad that his beloved night sky remained the same, even so far west. It felt like he wasn’t so far from home if the sky was at least the same._ _

__He traced the figures in the sky lovingly, like old relatives. There was the Shieldmaiden (the Hunter’s Bow), Cethleann’s Scales (Hasan’s Sandals), the Great Pegasus (Wyvern’s Cross), and finally the King’s Right Hand (the Northstar). He lingered on the last one. The Fodlanese name for it seemed to settle heavily in his chest. His own right hand might very well be looking at the night sky tonight. Claude imagined the scene in his mind’s eye, allowing himself a slight smile. Byleth’s strong frame leaning against the railing of the Moon Terrace, gazing up at the stars, her pale green eyes catching the silvery light. Tracing the very same constellations he taught her on night patrols so many moons ago, back when he was a young man still realizing he trusted this strange, powerful woman with every part of himself. He imagined her pensive face--always so mysterious but all the lovelier in its inscrutability--pale in the light of the moon. The curve of her cheeks, the shape of her lips, the stray hairs that always fell in her eyes, the ring that sat on her left finger--pale emerald like her divine eyes…_ _

__Claude’s heart still ached for Byleth, but right here, beneath the great expanse of the night sky, the sharp ache quieted into a beautiful wound: tender and tortuous, pining and painful. For a moment, she didn’t seem so far away. Claude brought his own ring to his lips and uttered a silent vow, not to the stars, but to the woman who had usurped their place in his heart and mind. In a few short moons, Claude would hold his betrothed beneath these same stars, and he would never leave her side again. Joy and longing in equal measure coiled in his chest at the thought. His breath came short and a few hot tears traced down his cheeks._ _

__“Soon, my friend…” he whispered softly into the sighing wind._ _

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was pretty self-indulgent for me. My fiance and I have been long-distance for a while now due to med school, but thanks to the pandemic, we're now on an indefinite hold for future visits. 
> 
> I basically picked the Golden Deer for my first run because Claude reminded me so much of my fiance's chaotic personality, easy confidence, and lighthearted attitude. The fact that the S-rank ends in a long-distance relationship that does eventually end hit me so hard, and I love it all the more for it. Needless to say, this route holds a special place in my heart.
> 
> So, for all of you who can't be with loved ones right now, stay strong. It's awful, but we will get through this when the world is healed, and all be together in a peaceful, happy world. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


End file.
